


That's Dr. Townsend, to you

by gracefultree



Category: Evil (tv), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Harold isn't Harold, John suspects, Leland is Evil, M/M, Rape, but doesn't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefultree/pseuds/gracefultree
Summary: What if the Machine made a mistake and turned Harold into Leland Townsend?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Sky's new story and went and watched Evil because Michael Emerson and well... this drabble came forth.

Something was off about Harold, John decided.It wasn’t just running from Samaritan and living his new identity.Dr. Leland Townsend seemed all right on the surface — a forensic psychologist fit Harold’s personality well enough, but John’s hackles were raised whenever he met Harold in that guise. 

His hackles were still raised when they met in the park to exchange information. 

“I won’t work the numbers any more, Detective,” Harold said, not meeting his eyes.“That part of my life died when the Machine did.” 

“How do you know the Machine is dead?” John countered. 

“There are sinister forces at work,” Harold continued.“Things beyond our knowledge or comprehension.” 

“Samaritan.” 

“Oh, John, I fear that is only the beginning.” 

John turned sharply at the tone of Harold’s voice.He sounded almost gleeful. 


	2. Why Humans Do Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leland muses on why humans do things. What motivates them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I've fallen down the rabbit hole and I keep writing. Quickly. Just thinking about non-con so far, will put it in notes when it happens. Hope you enjoy!

Humans were so… complex, Leland mused as he listened to John Reese explain why they should resume their work on “the numbers.”Complex, and yet simple, he corrected himself. 

There were so very many reasons people wanted to serve someone else, why they’d follow orders, why they’d get on their knees… as many reasons as people, then doubled and tripled, probably.He wasn’t in the mood to do the mental arithmetic that Harold Finch would have already done.He wasn’t Harold Finch.At least, not anymore.Not fully. 

When Harold’s Machine set in motion its plan to save Harold, John and five others, it inadvertently opened the door to unseen forces.The Machine created the identity of Leland Townsend and filled in a backstory, a lifetime of digital records, and even some paper trails.It gave Leland motivation and a reason for being careful around people.It gave him something to do.It gave him digital expertise that would feel familiar to Harold and a job that would put him in the sphere of law enforcement. 

It was Harold’s own desperation to save John that opened the door for the entity that now inhabited his body and called itself Leland.Never a religious man, and certainly a sceptic when it came to all things unexplainable by science, Harold found himself in a church, praying fervently for John’s safety and return to him because he had no recourse and nothing else to do.Striking a bargain with an hallucination seemed like a small thing when compared to his partner’s safety. 

Already accomplished at shedding identities, it didn’t take long for Harold to become Leland, and reasonably comfortable with a lax moral code, the forensic psychologist persona who tried to keep criminals in jail by any means necessary fit like a glove.Not to mention his skills at breaking and entering, honed by John Reese’s own tutelage. 

Now it was his turn to teach John about the world. 

The more “face” time Harold gave to Leland, the less of himself was left.Leland approved. 

He had to tread carefully, at first.He didn’t want John suspicious.He needed to mold John to what he wanted, to the weapon he would become again, without him noticing the change and protesting that violence and trickery weren’t Harold’s way.Grooming him into everything he could be in the service of Leland and his masters. 

And so he listened, and protested as Harold might, and eventually gave in.He created a special phone network so that he and John and their allies could contact each other without Samaritan noticing, and he followed the Machine’s hidden message to the abandoned subway station. 

He sent one of the Sixty to watch over and inform on Mr. Greer. 

He used Harold’s skills to create a virus to disrupt the Machine, slowly and subtly, so that Root wouldn’t notice and so that Harold wouldn’t resurface to protect his “child.”The man was strangely protective about a bit of code…

He was not so strangely protective about John Reese, now called Riley.Sex wasn’t strange to Leland.It was one of his favorite vices.And Harold reeked of sexual desire for John.Thwarted desire and unrequited passion were part of the desperation that drew Leland to Harold in the first place. 

Leland would help Harold in this.He would seduce John with Harold’s body and destroy John’s soul in the process.Both their souls, actually, since Harold’s was on layaway already.An added bonus.John wanted to serve, after all, and he wanted to serve _Harold_. 

Despite the myriad of reasons people served, there were three main categories, and John fell into two of them.Leland had no doubt he could manipulate John through these desires of his, and the results would be most pleasing. 

The first category of service was transactional, not one that motivated John.He didn’t want money or things.He wanted a purpose, and reason for doing what he did that went beyond what he would get in return. 

The second category was positional service, serving because the person needed to serve out of a personal desire to feel needed and worthy.These were the people who served anyone, or almost anyone.The people who served because it was the right thing to do.The people who wanted someone, anyone, to tell them what to do and how to do it and when they did a good job.John started out this way.He wanted a master and joined the Army.They gave orders and he followed them.It felt comfortable to him.It was part of why the CIA got such good work out of him.He would follow orders from Mark, from Kara, from On High without thinking too much about it.It was when he started asking questions that he ran into trouble.The CIA didn’t like questions. 

The third category of service had the most potential for manipulation, especially of a man like John.Those people were the people who served out of devotion — love — for a particular master.John had gone from a man who would serve anyone to a man who would only serve Harold — even though Harold had been oblivious to his love and desire and need of him and his direction while simultaneously lusting after John’s body and showing his ownership by clothing him and making minute decisions about John’s life. 

Leland was not oblivious, and he planned on using that devotion and love to his own advantage. He suspected that John would become an excellent sex slave. 

.

.

.


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has several kinds of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I can't stop! I keep writing! It just keeps flowing! I'm not even editing or driving myself nuts wondering if I have the wording correct or if people will like it. I'm just writing and posting. 
> 
> Wow. I'm a fangirl. Enough said. 
> 
> Warnings for dream-based non-con. 
> 
> John's PoV.

“Do you know what I love most about sex, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked apropos of nothing. “Besides the obvious, of course,” he added with a snicker. He waited a beat, but when John didn’t respond, he continued in a silky voice John had never heard from him before. 

“I love that look on their face that says, ‘yes, I _want_ _you_.’ And do you know what else, _John_? You have that look right now.” 

John froze, his entire body turned to stone. His eyes wide. He tried to blink, but he couldn’t close his eyes to accomplish it. How could Harold know that? How could Harold divine his most treasured secret? 

Harold advanced on where he lay in bed. 

“I imagine you’ve thought about it. Haven’t you, John?” He settled next to John, his body moving with an undamaged fluidity that made John’s skin crawl with its wrongness. “You, kneeling naked at my feet, begging to suck my cock? Have you pictured that? I know I have.” 

John felt fear skate up his spine, sending adrenaline throughout his body. And yet he couldn’t move. He was frozen. Unmoving. Immovable. 

“The next time you see me, I’d like to try that out. You don’t have to be naked, we can save that for when we’re alone, but I want you kneeling at my feet. Do you think you can do that for me, John? Will you kneel at my feet on the New York sidewalk and beg to be allowed to pleasure me?” 

John’s throat clicked as he attempted to swallow. “Yes,” he croaked, tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks. 

.

.

.

John spent most of the morning trying to shake off the dream.Nightmare.Night terror? 

It felt so real…

It couldn’t have been real, though, because the real Harold had no idea John pined for him.The real Harold had been ignoring his flirtations and micro-advances for years.To have him state so boldly that he wanted John on his knees?It wasn’t Harold.There was no way it was Harold. 

“We have a new number,” Harold said in his ear.John felt his lips twitching up.At least Harold had finally agreed to help with the numbers again.“Her name is Kristen Bouchard.She’s a forensic psychologist working for the DA’s office as an expert witness.” 

“Like you,” John pointed out.“The new you.” 

“I had to find a way to get close to her, so I manipulated my background to insert myself into one of her cases.” 

“Any idea if she’s the victim or perpetrator yet?” 

“I’m not sure,” Harold said, and John heard typing in the background — familiar, good.“I’m sending you her address.Let me know what you find out.” 

.

.

.

“Dr. Kristen Bouchard,” John reported later.“Four kids, all girls.Lives under the railroad tracks and is upside down on her student loans and mortgage. Looks like she’s hiding more debt, too, but I couldn’t find the records.” 

“That’s of no matter, I’ll find them shortly,” Harold interjected. 

“She works from home, a lot of hours, and she gets overly invested in her cases because of the people.There’s a case she’s working right now where she testifies that a 15-year-old kid shouldn’t be tried as an adult, and she has the mother’s name and number in her personal cell.” 

“Hmm, she’s especially passionate about this case, you think?” 

“I think so.She’s married, but her husband is away climbing Mt. Everest and hasn’t been back for over a year. Sends a little money now and then. Not enough. Her mother’s an addict who takes care of the kids after school and on weekends and hates the husband.” 

“So it’s unlikely the threat is coming from her husband with him so far away and unable to access most technology,” Harold mused.“The mother?” 

“No, mom might be an addict, but she controls it well enough.Widowed.Lives off her Social Security and some money Bouchard gives her.Waits until after taking care of the kids to use, but binges on days she doesn’t have them.No debt to speak of, and no priors.Neither of them own a gun.Bouchard has debt, but just to regular creditors, so no loan sharks sending goons to worry about.” 

“So either the threat comes from a case at work, or Dr. Bouchard is the perpetrator.” 

“What have you found?” John asked. 

“I broke into her therapist’s office and stole his notes.It’s quite interesting bedtime reading.” 

John felt himself tense up.“Finch!” he hissed. 

“Townsend,” Harold corrected.“And I was making a joke, Detective.” 

John released the breath he’d been holding and forced his shoulders to relax.“Not a very nice one,” he muttered. 

“Well, I apologize, Mr. Reese, I can’t always be at my best,” Harold snapped with much more heat than usual. 

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” John asked, concern flooding his system and voice. 

“It’s nothing,” Harold demurred.“I’ve just been having an increased number of nightmares lately.They’re quite disturbing, when I stop to think about them.” 

“You, too, huh?Last night was especially bad.I’d almost call it a night terror, if you believe in those kinds of things.” 

“Night terrors are a clinically-proven medical condition.Normally I’d suggest seeing a doctor, but for men in our positions…”

“Yeah.Ok.So how do you want to handle the number?” John returned to his usual form of avoiding conversations: deflection and distraction. 

“I’ll look into her cases at the courthouse while you continue watching her.We should be able to figure out something soon enough,” Harold said.“I have a meeting with the DA tomorrow morning.” 

“Good.I’ll check in tomorrow afternoon, if not before.I have some paperwork I have to handle and Fusco’s going to be riding my ass about it if I don’t get started.”John frowned to himself.“Plus I have to meet with a psychologist of my own.To prove I’m not a danger to the force.” 

“Good luck.We’ve certainly dealt with enough of those in our careers.Good night, John,” Harold replied in a softer, gentle tone.“I hope you have better dreams tonight.” 

.

.

.

John was in the Library again.Harold was there, too, typing at his computers.John walked up to him and sank to his knees.Harold turned in his chair to look down at him. 

“Oh, John,” Harold whispered.“How did you know this is what I wanted?”He reached out a hand and ran his fingers through John’s hair.“Would you like to be a good boy and suck me off?” he wondered, his eyes focused on John’s, his fingers still moving soothingly on John’s scalp.“Will you be good for me?” 

“Yes,” John breathed. 

Harold’s dick was in his mouth.He was naked, kneeling in front of him, Harold standing tall, completely dressed, his erection hard and smooth and dripping.His hands were cuffed behind him, but he didn’t care.Harold’s dick was in his mouth. 

“Such a good boy,” Harold murmured, both hands on John’s head now.He gripped his hair and held him in place, fucking his mouth and throat.John choked, gagged.Harold kept him in place so that his throat fluttered around Harold’s erection.He couldn’t breathe.He thought he might vomit. 

“Would you suffocate yourself to give me pleasure?” Harold asked, pulling out just enough that John could suck in a breath before pushing in hard and deep.John closed his eyes, nodding desperately as he sucked. 

They played until John was dizzy and lightheaded, buzzing from lack of oxygen.His stomach roiled, but he could handle it.Harold’s dick was finally in his mouth and he ws going to make the most of the opportunity. 

“I’m about to come.Will you let me take your breath until I do?Will you be good for me?” 

John nodded, opening his eyes briefly to see the encroaching ecstasy on Harold’s face through the black spots that swam in his vision.Harold’s smile was beatific, holy, an angel’s smile.He closed his eyes and gave himself to Harold. 

“Will you die for my pleasure, John?” Harold demanded as he filled John’s airway with his cock and held him there. 

John woke with a gasp, covered in cold sweat.His boxers were ruined. 

.

.

.


	4. Dr. Campbell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leland needs information from John's therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter that includes a lot of non-con and rape, none of it graphic, but still likely to be disturbing. Leland is an evil MFer!

Gaining access to John Riley‘s therapist’s notes was as easy as asking out Dr. Campbell, drugging her wine, and convincing her to spread her legs when she invited him up to her apartment for a nightcap. She’d even been polite enough to offer to go without condoms if he didn’t want them — she was on the pill.Leland didn’t want them.Condoms were for neurotic fools like Harold Finch who insisted on them even though he knew (through illegal surveillance) that his fiancé wasn’t sleeping with anyone else and had an IUD, besides. 

Fucking the therapist afforded Leland the opportunity to look through her computer and put several malware programs on both it and her phone to track her keystrokes and to be able to control the computer remotely if he ever wanted to.A skill of Finch’s, Leland kept it for just such situations.Fucking her also allowed him to cultivate her as a sex partner. He enjoyed sex quite a bit, and after reading her diary he had some insights that might help him further her on the path towards evil. Iris Campbell was quite naïve for a therapist, especially one who worked with cops. She had no idea what the real world was like, how evil it was, how evil humans were. Leland was about to show her. He enjoyed corrupting people, too. 

Once he finished with her computer, phone and diary, he returned to the bedroom and flipped her onto her stomach. He handcuffed her hands to the bed, put a blindfold on her and an improvised gag in her mouth. After he made sure she was still fully asleep, he began pounding her ass as hard as he could. 

This was her first experience with anal sex.He wanted it all for himself. 

He didn’t have to worry about refractory periods or not being able to get it up like Harold might have — his possession of Harold’s body ensured that he’d be able to have sex whenever he wanted, however often that happened to be — which was often.Humans underestimated the pleasures of the flesh, despite their protestations to the contrary.He’d made a vow to himself to enjoy it as often as he could while he was embodied on this plane. 

The first few thrusts were pure bliss, her body loose from unconsciousness. He noticed immediately when she woke because her body tensed around him.Iris made a strangled sound behind the gag. He kissed the side of her face, her ear — one of her hot spots, according to the diary. He stopped thrusting, though he stayed inside her, and plastered himself along her back, leaning over so he could whisper in her ear while he held her down with his full weight.

“Thank you so much for trusting me with your deepest, darkest fantasy,” he crooned. “It gives me so much pleasure to fulfill your desires like this,” he added, knowing that there were still enough drugs in her system to be malleable to his manipulation — she’d think she’d told him the fantasy.“I’m honored to be the one you trusted to share this with, the one you asked for this.All I want to do is give you pleasure,” he continued in his most seductive tones. “That’s what you asked me for, isn’t it?A night of pleasure?A night of experimentation and fun? To bring you to heights you’d only imagined?” 

Slowly, she began relaxing. As she did, he began thrusting, hard and deep. Once he knew that she was fully awake and cognizant of what he was doing, he began the assault again in earnest.She struggled.She tried to scream.He shoved her face in the pillow and fucked her harder.That was all part of the fantasy.He felt his smile expanding when she realized he wasn’t going to stop until he was done no matter what she did or tried. 

He’d apologize when they met the next.He hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t realized he’d gone too far.It was dark, how could he have known she was bleeding?Was there any way he could make it up to her?Why, yes, of course he’d hold her.He wasn’t there for sex.Hadn’t expected it the first night, just been pleasantly surprised and honored to do it when she brought it up.No, he wouldn’t mind staying away from anal for a while.Yes, he’d really enjoyed the time they spent together.Did she want to go to a movie next time?A walk in the park with his dog? 

He knew women like Iris Campbell.Not enough confidence to have much experience, but with the mistaken belief that they’d seen it all — She knew all about rape and date rape, had been hearing about it second- and third-hand for years as a therapist, but what he’d done… that was just an accident.A miscalculation because he was so excited by her fantasy.The one she’d asked for.The one she’d never shared with another living soul because of the shame associated with it. 

A therapist fantasizing about being raped?No, never. 

But Leland was so kind, and a psychologist himself, so he understood, and he was so sorry he’d gone too far, and he really really liked her and he’d never do it again…

Unless she asked.Which she would. 

He knew she would. 

(It only took two more dates before she wanted his cock up her ass again, and then on the next date, too.) 

.

.

.

“Do you ever fantasize about your patients?” he asked casually as they walked in the park.They were holding hands.It was a glorious autumn day and he had plans for her that evening. 

“Sure, sometimes,” she answered without thinking.“It’s perfectly normal for a therapist to have those thoughts.We just can’t act on them.That would be a breach of ethical boundaries and and a violation of our patients.” 

“True, true,” he mused.“I suppose you stop working with them when you have those thoughts?” 

She stopped to look at him sharply.“Leland…”

“I only ask, you understand, because it’s been so long since I’ve done more than assess patients’ mental states.I don’t often seen one more than a handful of times, so I haven’t developed feelings or an attraction for any of them in years.” 

This was a lie, but she didn’t have to know that.He routinely masturbated after sitting with one of his clients, imagining all the possibilities — sexual and _other_.Nor did she have to know that he continued to read her diary and the session notes of her own therapist and her notes on all her clients, so he knew very well that she felt extremely ashamed of her lustful daydreams on a certain John Riley. 

“I guess, I guess it’s never gotten to that point,” she said after a few minutes.“To need to stop working with them, I mean.I’ve always been able to control my thoughts.” 

“Good.That’s good.” 

“There is _one_ man, though…” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning into him. 

“Oh?” 

“I’ll call him… John,” she said, giggling nervously, unaware that he knew she was violating HIPPA by using John’s real name, even though she called it an alias, even though it was one of the most popular names for men in the Unites States. 

“Tell me about him.” 

“He’s tall, brooding, quiet.He acts as if he has something to hide.” 

“Mysteries,” Leland commented.“Is he attractive?” 

“Very,” she answered, then gasped and covered her mouth.“I’m sorry.I shouldn’t be —”

“It’s ok, Iris,” he said quickly, soothingly.He raised her hand to his lips to kiss it.“I’m not threatened that you find him attractive.No doubt he’s different enough from me that there wouldn’t be much to compare.I find it kind of exciting, actually, to hear you talk about him.”He paused.“Almost as if he were a third actor in our little play.”He tilted his head and smiled.She smiled back. 

“I could —no, maybe not,” she said, stopping herself. 

“You could, what?” he prompted.“You can tell me anything, my dear.” 

“I know, I know, it’s just — embarrassing.”They continued walking.“I could call you John next time, pretend you’re him,” she blurted. 

“Oh?I might not mind that.What would you want John to do to you?” 

“I want him to —” 

A garden variety fantasy, it turned out, but Leland was pleased.He thought it might take more encouragement to bring John into the bedroom, even as rollplay.He rewarded her with two orgasms — one courtesy of his mouth, the other his dick in her pussy, then slipped a sleeping pill into her water and fucked her ass for a full hour while she slept.It wouldn’t be the first time she’d wake with his cum drying between her ass cheeks and no memory of the sex, and it wouldn’t be the last.She didn’t tell her therapist about when this happened.Nor did she tell her that she and Leland agreed that it was ok for him to fuck her while she slept. 

He’d written that part into her diary himself, spoofing her handwriting. 

She believed they’d had the conversation, though, so she didn’t protest that it happened nearly every time he stayed over, even if they’d had anal sex that she remembered — she was becoming such a _slut_ for it, begging him, promising all sorts of things so he’d do it because he loved fucking her pussy so much and had to be convinced to fuck her ass instead (or in addition) — she assumed she’d missed some that had dribbled down when cleaning up for bed.He didn’t tell her otherwise and continued the clandestine nighttime ritual he loved so much. 

.

.

.

Grace Hendricks proved to be a more difficult project than Leland expected.She was overjoyed that “Harold” turned up on her doorstep, alive after all these years.She wanted nothing more than for him to move back into their apartment immediately and begin planning their wedding.He had to do some serious mental gymnastics to convince her that he’d had amnesia and rebuilt an entire life as Leland Townsend that he couldn’t just _abandon._

They compromised on starting to date again from the beginning, so they could “get to know” the new them.She’d changed a bit over the years, and he’d become an entirely different person. 

He didn’t tell her he was also fucking Iris Campbell and trying to seduce John Riley and stalking Kristen Bouchard and her new boss David Acosta, the Catholic priest-in-training with a sordid history of his own.He’d started a campaign to win over Kristen’s mother, meeting her “by accident” when both their dates were or became “unavailable.”Sheryl seemed intrigued by his honesty and cynicism — and the evil twists to what he said. 

Nor did he tell Grace about the other people, men and women, he seduced or raped for fun.Being a demon meant his host didn’t have to sleep unless he wanted to, and he had many more hours in the day/night than the average person.He took full advantage of all of them, using money that he created with the Machine’s help to facilitate his double, triple and quadruple lives. 

The Machine, crippled first by Samaritan and then corrupted by his virus, accepted the new Harold-as-Leland and began helping him with his projects.She was _very_ loyal to her Admin.Making him a billionaire again through the billions of micro transactions on the stock market was the simplest thing to her.She’d done it before, after all, when she created Ernest Thornhill. 

With Samaritan under the thumb of Mr. Greer and his watchdog from the Sixty, Leland had two super-powerful AIs in his pocket. 

Life was good. 

Now all he had to do was seduce John and corrupt him... 

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags (because new content) and changed the story to only be seen by registered users because I've had some trolling comments on other stories with similar themes. Just an FYI.


	5. Harold's thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold hates Leland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switch point of view with each break -- First Harold, then John, then back to Harold. 
> 
> I can't wait for the newest Evil episode, coming tomorrow! It looks horrifyingly wonderful.

Harold hated Leland.He hated what he did, what he said, how he interacted with people.He despised the things Leland did with his body, especially when he wanted sexual gratification.Harold felt disgusted by what Leland did.Repulsed. 

Leland laughed at his squeamishness and went on to do more horrible things just to get a rise out of Harold. 

Leland didn’t occupy his body all the time, though, Harold discovered.He often got bored and wandered off, leaving Harold in charge.It was those times when Harold tried to work the numbers with John, learned how to be a forensic psychologist and talked to the Machine.He only talked to it in computer languages.Leland understood English, but he’d somehow not figured out C++ or binary or any of the other languages Harold could type faster than he could talk.For a demon it seemed like a huge weakness. 

Harold did his best to thwart Leland’s plans. 

Case in point: When Kristen Bouchard confronted him one night about the 15-year-old Leland was attempting to get tried as an adult, Harold protested every word Leland said, which enraged him and encouraged him to say more than he might have otherwise.Harold had seen her with her phone and knew she’d be recording their conversation, so he wanted Leland to be as vulgar as possible.It worked — because Kristen knew someone with technology skills, not because of her recording.Leland had been able to disrupt the recording, and somehow Kristen recreated it.It was what Harold might have done, had he known about Leland’s power over technology sooner. 

They got into arguments frequently, usually about Leland’s behavior, but also about the agreement they’d made.Harold hadn’t known he’d been negotiating with an actual person — creature, _demon_.He’d thought he was hallucinating after spending weeks not eating, drinking or sleeping enough, worried out of his mind about the Machine and John and Samaritan and the others on his team. 

Watching Leland interact with John from behind his own eyes, knowing the evil plans Leland had for him, it made him want to —

No, he couldn’t get rid of Leland if he killed himself.Leland would just take over someone else and cause more havoc, probably killing everyone he loved in retribution. 

Harold had been making debatable moral decisions his entire life, so continuing to do it in order to get a demon permanently out of him seemed — not easy, it certainly wasn’t easy, but _doable_.He had his own code of conduct for how he interacted with the world.He promised himself he would never bend that code, never break his own rules, but… to save John, to _truly_ save John, he’d destroy the world if he had to. 

He’d bide his time and find a way to banish Leland.He’d have to find a way around the rules and let someone know he needed help.So far, he didn’t have any ideas.He couldn’t talk to John, or the Machine, or anyone else about being possessed.He couldn’t confess to the Church and ask for an exorcism.He couldn’t tell a doctor or psychiatrist because they’d consider him mentally ill and he’d be incarcerated in a psychiatric facility like he’d done to Root.She’d forgiven him, as it gave her time to connect with the Machine and learn to help it, but he would only have himself to blame.He needed to be free to do what he could. 

He needed to build up a persona that would trick Leland into letting him have more time as himself.He’d need to find a way to clue John in to the fact that there was something else controlling him. 

He bided his time and picked his battles. 

He didn’t protest Leland’s treatment of Dr. Campbell.He didn’t raise a fuss when Leland reconnected with Grace.Leland had to move especially slowly with her, and she wasn’t ready to have sex yet, so he had time.She also didn’t trust this new “Harold” who went by Leland.He knew her well enough to tell she wouldn’t put up with him for long.It broke his heart, seeing her hurt, but if she broke up with Leland, it would protect her in the end.She might never forgive him, but at least she’d be alive. 

He tried to do most of his thinking in code, so Leland wouldn’t understand him.For the most part, it worked.He was able to destroy the virus Leland implanted in the Machine, giving it back its freedom and will.He was able to limit the damage to Grace and got her to break up with him. 

He wasn’t able to influence Leland away from his plan for John. 

_You project your feelings about him,_ Leland told him one afternoon as he watched Harold walking in the park with John.He liked giving Harold the image of control only to snatch it away when he needed it the most.He almost never left them alone together._You want him so much… It’s comical, really.I can’t figure out why you never fucked.But I’ll see to that.I’m going to use you to destroy him once I’m done with him, you know.I’m going to blacken his soul and use your body to do it. _

_01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01110100 01110010 01101111 01111001 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101000 01110101 01110010 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101000 01101001 01101101 00101110_

_For the Devil’s sake, Harold, the more often you do this when I’m trying to have a conversation with you, the more I’ll hurt him. _

_I will destroy you for hurting him,_ Harold repeated, seething with hatred and not afraid to show it.Leland laughed in his head and smiled up at John. 

.

.

.

John curled himself around Harold and held up his arm to protect their heads from the projectile — _frisbee?_

“I’m so sorry!” a woman exclaimed, running up, slightly out of breath.Mid-forties with dark brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, she seemed genuine and not a threat. 

“No problem,” John answered automatically, handing over the toy.He felt distracted by Harold’s hand on his lower back. 

“Thanks.My son, Billy, he gets enthusiastic sometimes,” she said.“He’s eleven,” she added.Across the park a dark-haired boy started jogging over at his mother’s wave.“Before I go, I wanted to say…” she hesitated.“I want to say thanks.Thank you.” 

“Are you talking about something more than John returning your frisbee, Miss?” Harold asked from under John’s arm — the arm he hadn’t noticed he’d put around his shoulders because he was still distracted by Harold’s hand on his back, now curled around his waist as a lover might.John quelled the thoughts that accompanied that one and tried to focus on the sensation.No — the _conversation_. 

“Yes.”She laughed.“My son, Billy, he came out to me last week.He said, he said, he wanted to have a husband someday, and I immediately thought of you two.We’ve seen you walking your dog together for years, and I’ve always been frank with him that people can marry whomever they want, boy or girl, and then to see you today —It’s like fate!” The boy arrived and submitted to his mother ruffling his hair.“Billy, introduce yourself to these nice gentlemen,” she said. 

“I’m Leland and this is my husband John,” Harold said, startling John with the use of his new name.He disentangled himself from John to shake the boy’s hand, then the mother’s.“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Billy.And Ms. —?” 

“Mrs., actually.Mrs. Steinberg.Rebecca Steinberg.I’m Rebecca.” 

Robotically, John let go of Harold and shook Billy’s limp hand as Harold shook Rebecca’s.The boy was staring at his shoes, clearly embarrassed by his mother.John continued on autopilot as Harold and the mother made small talk for a few minutes, his mind abuzz with what Harold had said. 

_Husband…_ It wasn’t the first time they’d pretended to be a couple for a case — walking in the park together with Baby Leila came to mind instantly — but it was the first time Harold had used that particular word.Usually he said partner and let people draw their own conclusions, but this… this was Harold, what?Staking his claim?Declaring his feelings for John? 

He thought about the dreams that had been plaguing him the past few weeks.Dark, steamy dreams involving him and Harold — only Harold went by Leland and demanded uncomfortably titillating and erotically dangerous things from him.Had Harold ever had these kinds of dreams?Had he ever woken in the night with wet sheets and John’s name on his tongue? 

He had to get used to calling Harold Leland.It was the only way to integrate into this new life of theirs.Why the Machine would give him a completely different name when he’d always used Harold in his aliases, he couldn’t fathom, unless it was _because_ of that.The Machine didn’t want any connection with any of the other Harolds on the chance Samaritan was looking for them, which it was. 

“You can’t be married if you don’t have rings,” the boy said, interrupting the conversation. 

“It’s not always safe to wear them,” Harold explained. 

“That’s dumb.” 

“I agree, young man.Now,” Harold said briskly, clapping his hands together.“If you don’t mind, John and I will excuse ourselves.We have a dinner reservation to get to.” 

“We’re going to dinner?” John asked as soon as the mother and son were out of earshot.Harold took his arm. 

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” he said, leaning in briefly, making their shoulders brush. 

“No, of course not,” John murmured, now distracted by how they were walking — as a couple.“Are we a couple?” he asked, his mouth working faster than his brain — which was telling him, no, don’t ask that _under any circumstances._

Harold didn’t answer for a few blocks.John was used to the silence and could tell Harold was thinking about how to respond.He was used to that, too.It was normal for Harold to contemplate what he was going to say before he said it.He stopped walking when Harold did, turning to face him. 

“I’ll be honest, John,” Harold began.He smiled grimly.“I know it’s not my usual style to be forthright…” he continued, trailing off.“And I hope you’ll forgive my presumption, but…”He closed his eyes for a moment before looking John right in the eyes.“In our time apart I spent a lot of nights feeling lonely, thinking of you, of our interactions over the years.I found myself looking at them from a different perspective.” 

John drew in a breath and held it, nervous and anxious for the next sentence.Was Harold about to admit to feelings for him?Was Harold about to give him permission to court him for real?Was Harold in love with him? 

“I’ve never been ‘quick on the uptake’ as it were, in regards to matters of the heart.It took me years to approach Grace, you know.” 

“I had no idea,” John responded truthfully. 

“The Machine first gave me her number in 2004.I didn’t approach her until 2006.” 

“The Machine —”

“Gave me your number, too,” Harold interrupted.“In 2003.” 

“Haro—”

“Leland,” Harold, no, _Leland_ interrupted, reminding him yet again to use his new alias.Only it wasn’t an alias, was it?Harold was becoming Leland in truth, to stay under Samaritan’s radar.Just like he was John Riley. 

“Leland,” John corrected.“What are you trying to say?” 

“I think,” Leland said.“I think the Machine wants us to be together.Like it wanted me with Grace.” 

“Romantically,” John stated, spelling it out. 

“Yes.” 

John finally let out the tension in his body and breath.“Ok,” he said.“Let’s do it.” 

.

.

.

John’s lips were just as soft, and just as demanding, as Harold dreamed.He kissed with a long-dormant passion that threatened to overwhelm them both.Harold felt himself floating, clutching at John to keep him in place as he silently demanded his fill.John seemed happily willing to oblige. 

_Is it everything you hoped for? _Leland asked, his voice slithering back into Harold’s consciousness._I could get you so much more than this.I could —_

Harold had too much control to startle, but he winced internally at the interruption. 

He should be used to it by now.It had been months. 

Minutes, hours, days, even, of being himself, being in control, only to have it wrenched from him at the worst of times.Usually when he was with John. 

The world shifted, John’s lips left his, and Harold opened his eyes to see John drop to his knees.He jerked a step back, his eyes wide in horror.“Mr. Reese —”

Or he would have, if the demon calling itself Leland hadn’t taken over his body at just that moment, keeping him rooted in place and his mouth shut.He felt his arm rising as Leland lifted his hand to cup John’s upturned cheek, stroking his cheekbone with a thumb. 

John wore a look of complete adoration.He closed his eyes, relaxing against Leland’s hand, pure and trusting. 

“Later, my darling John,” Leland said in Harold’s voice, with Harold’s mouth.“I’ll have you on your knees for me later,” he promised.“Come to dinner now.Let’s enjoy ourselves with this new understanding.” 

John got to his feet, smooth and sleek and deadly as always.He offered his arm to Harold. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly.“I don’t know what came over me.I —”

“Later,” Leland repeated.John nodded, closing his mouth tightly.Harold wondered if he felt rebuked by Leland’s tone or repetition of telling John _later_.They began walking. 

_He’s so pliable, isn’t he? _Leland asked._So ready to do whatever we tell him._

**_We_**_ won’t be telling him anything! _Harold protested. 

_You want this.Tell me you don’t want this.You _ ** _dream_ ** _ of him on his knees for you, sucking you off, getting you ready so he can bend over —_

_I never wanted to _ ** _coerce_ ** _ him!_

_Oh, Harold, so in denial.So blind to your own desires.All you’ve ever wanted from him was capitulation, following orders, groveling…_

_No!No, I never wanted that!_

Silence reigned in Harold’s head for a few minutes as he and John talked about restaurant choices.Harold’s phone rang.He glanced at the display and Leland made their mouth frown.Leland’s job as an expert witness never seemed to rest. 

They postponed their first date, to Harold’s relief.He had plans to make and a demon to destroy. 

.

.

.


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold must make some confessions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been a whole year since I updated? It seems so... I found this in an old folder and wanted to share. Enjoy!

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.It has been 666 days since my last confession.” 

_It’s a sin to lie to a priest, Harold, _Leland whispered._It’s been _**_decades_**_ since your last confession. You’re finally starting to get with the program.I like it._

Harold refused to acknowledge Leland’s voice in his head.He had a confession to make and a theory to test. 

“The Number of The Beast,” the priest commented. 

“Is it?Oh, I suppose you’re right.I have this app on my phone, you see, that tells me how long it’s been.It just told me the number and I…” 

“It’s not important,” the priest said, brushing him off in a way he didn’t expect.From his researches, he’d expected this priest to jump on the Number as significant, even if Harold pretended it was coincidence.He’d chosen this church, this priest, for a reason — he wasn’t supposed to let that go.“Tell me your confession so that our Father may forgive your sins and grant you absolution.” 

“Yes, Father.”He drew a deep breath.“I have been having impure thoughts about a coworker.Sexual thoughts.” 

“Many people have such thoughts, my son.Have you acted on them?” 

“With my friend, only once,” Harold said.“I kissed him yesterday, in the park.It made me want more.” 

“There are many within the Church who no longer believe that homosexuality is a sin, though the Vatican hasn’t yet come around.” 

“Are you one of those people, Father?” 

“I am.Now, you indicated you’ve only kissed this person, but it seems as if there’s more.” 

“I’ve acted on my carnal urges many, many times.With many people.” 

_Another lie, Harold…_

“Tell me,” the priest encouraged when Harold grew silent. 

“It’s gotten bad, father.The past seven months, I feel as if I’m at war with myself,” he continued. 

_Harold, you’re skating on the edge of breaking our agreement, and you know what happens then. _

“Part of me revels in the feelings he brings up for me.Part of me knows it’s wrong.”He closed his eyes to continue.“I think about him when I’m with someone else.Everyone else, all of them.” 

_Hmm, now _ ** _that’s _ ** _true.You’re always thinking of him.When I fucked that hotel doorman last night you were pretending he was John.Such nasty thoughts in your head, Harold, and I had nothing to do with putting them there._

“It sounds as if there were a number of people you’ve been intimate with?” 

“Two hundred fifty, maybe three hundred,” Harold reported.“I lost count.” 

“Two hundred?” the priest demanded, his voice startled. 

_Two hundred seventy nine,_ Leland declared proudly._It’ll be more as soon as you leave here.There’s a barista I’ve had my eye on. _

“More than that,” Harold said, continuing as if Leland weren’t trying to distract him.“Two hundred and thirteen days in seven months, Father.I’ve been… busy. It’s like I’m on autopilot.One, two people a day, sometimes.Mostly strangers.I can’t seem to stop and I hate it.It’s like I have no control.Men, women, anyone who strikes my fancy.Most are willing, at least at the beginning, but once I’ve started I can’t always stop.I hurt them, Father, and I know it’s wrong and I know I’m going to Hell for it, but… How can I ever get absolution for _that_?” he wailed. 

.

.

.

Harold knelt at a pew, rosary in his hands and prayers on his lips. 

He’d avoided church most of his adult life.

Raising a child as a single father in a rural area, his father Thomas had turned to the church for community and help with Harold after his wife died.Harold knew from a young age that the church was important to his father, so he went with him willingly and chose to attend catechism as a teen, getting confirmed before he left town because it made his father happy. 

Attending MIT gave him a new perspective.Surrounded by scientists and skeptics, he’d given up his borrowed faith, especially once his father passed. 

He remembered the prayers, though. 

Every word. 

Leland spent the first hour of Harold’s vigil trying to distract him with sexual innuendo and graphic descriptions of what he planned to do to the barista and Sheryl and Dr. Campbell and John.He spent the second hour mocking Harold for his attempt to seek absolution via confessing his and Leland’s sins.He spent the third hour badgering Harold to get up and leave the church and go on with his day.Wasn’t he worried that his stupid Machine would spit out some idiot’s number for him to save?He spent the fourth hour verbally assaulting and threatening him. 

He didn’t take over Harold’s body once. 

John arrived after the evening Mass.Though Harold’s eyes were closed, Leland showed him John walking into the church, dipping his fingers in the holy water and crossing himself.He and John had never discussed religion or their own religious upbringing, but it was his understanding that John gave up on church or any belief in God when his father died. 

Still, John had been an international spy, so he’d surely had to take some comparative religion classes and learn how to seem to be a part of a church community if he needed to be…

John glided down the aisle on silent feet, settling on his knees next to Harold without a word.His fingers brushed the back of Harold’s neck in silent greeting. 

Harold felt his ears pop as if in a sudden change of altitude and his head felt suddenly lighter.His whole body felt — his own.He couldn’t sense Leland.He couldn’t feel him making his limbs feel like they belonged to someone else.He couldn’t hear his taunts and obscenities. 

Was he free? 

He knew that whatever had just happened wouldn’t last forever.Leland always came back when he’d left before, and being forced out would make the demon angry, so Harold knew he’d be in for a difficult time when he eventually left the holy ground. 

“Leland —”

“Harold,” Harold interrupted. 

John paused.“I’ve gotta admit, _Harold_, I’m a little confused here.Yesterday you insisted on —”

“I know, John.Believe me, it’s —” He broke off.He needed to think about how to word this.“I’ve been feeling —”

“What you said yesterday, about us, is that still true?”It was John’s turn to interrupt.“I can’t help but wonder when you spend an entire day in a _church _when you’ve never set foot in one as long as I’ve known you!” 

Harold closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his clasped hands.“It’s complicated.And I can’t talk about it.” 

“Can’t, or won’t?” 

“_Can’t,_” Harold insisted. 

John paused for a moment while Harold returned to his soft prayers. 

“Are you being blackmailed?Will people get hurt if you talk about it?”

Harold stopped praying but didn’t answer. 

“So that’s it,” John mused.“And calling yourself Harold or Leland is a clue.”He paused.“I like you better as Harold,” he admitted. 

“So do I,” Harold said. 

“Will you come to dinner with me?” 

“Most likely Mr. Townsend will.” 

“Most likely?No, don’t answer, I’m getting a feel for it.” 

“Do you have a notebook with you, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked.John pulled one from his pocket and handed it and a pen over.Harold scribbled something that looked like computer code for a long time before handing them back.“I’ll text you.” 

John got to his feet and rested a hand on Harold’s shoulder for a moment.Harold felt a warmth in his chest and looked up. 

“We’ll find a way to make this work, Harold,” John said.He stroked a finger down Harold’s cheek.“I promise.” 

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End file.
